by Kate Mosse
Another spark jumped and caught a pile of dry leaves at the foot of the beech trees at the corner of the glade. A ribbon of golden flame went shooting up the trunk.
‘Get Alis away!’ Minou shouted to Aimeric.
Aimeric swept her up in his green cloak, pulling her into the deeper woods.
Minou’s relief was short-lived. Through the black smoke, she saw Bérenger intercepted by another soldier. She looked for Piet, but at that moment her breath was knocked from her as Blanche hurled herself again at Minou’s throat.
‘Piet!’ she heard Bérenger shouting. ‘Look to Minou!’
Minou was struggling to get her head free, trying to ignore the taste of blood in her mouth. Despite her condition, Blanche seemed possessed of the strength of several men.
Piet ran through the glade and hurled himself at Blanche, knocking her back and away from Minou. A soldier charged with his sword drawn, crashing his blade against Piet’s poniard. Piet buried his dagger in the man’s belly. Blood bubbled, then exploded from his mouth, staining the green ground red. He dropped to his knees and fell forward. Another soldier attacked, but Piet kept going, sword against sword, tirelessly driving his assailant back towards the pyre.
Still the wind was blowing, fanning the flames. The roaring of the fire grew.
Suddenly, Minou realised Blanche now had a knife in her hand.
‘Only through fire can we be born again,’ she whispered. ‘You must die, but you will thank me. I am saving your soul, Minou.’
Minou recoiled, not knowing what she could do against a blade. She was trapped. She kicked out with her foot, trying to keep Blanche at bay. Another belch of smoke was taken up by the wind, wrapping them both in its suffocating embrace and catching in their throats. Blanche began to cough. Then, into the chaos, came another voice.
‘Blanche. My Lady.’
In her shock, she dropped the knife. Minou saw the dismay on Piet’s face and twisted round to see Vidal walking into the glade with two soldiers, his manservant and two others between them.
‘No,’ she whispered in defeat.
Vidal was holding Alis by the collar of her gown. Bonal had angled his blade across her brother’s throat. Aimeric’s left eye was swollen shut and there was a gash of red on his cheek.
‘I’m sorry, Minou,’ Aimeric said. ‘We ran into them. There was—’
‘Be quiet,’ Bonal threatened.
‘You will put down your weapons,’ Vidal said. ‘Throw them where I can see them.’
Piet’s fist momentarily tightened on the hilt of his blade, but then he did what Vidal said. Bérenger followed, his blade landing on top of Piet’s sword. Bonal removed Aimeric’s dagger from his belt and tossed it onto the pile.
Vidal nodded and the soldiers tied Piet’s and Bérenger’s hands behind their backs and forced them to their knees.
‘That’s better,’ he said.
Minou saw a change come over Blanche. Her demons seemed to leave her and she became gracious and elegant. As if receiving guests to a banquet or a masque.
‘Valentin, you are most welcome. Forgive me but, as you can see, we were obliged to begin without you. I trust you slept well, my love?’
Piet’s eyes narrowed. Bérenger looked disgusted and Minou, remembering the rumours her father and Madame Noubel had shared with her, looked at Blanche’s belly and another piece of the puzzle fell into place.
Vidal’s child – not her husband’s child. Not an heir to the estates of Puivert at all.
‘You talk too much, Lady,’ Vidal said sharply.
‘Will you join me?’ she said. ‘I have gathered them all for you.’ She waved her hand wildly. ‘Can you see? Here they are.’
Vidal nodded curtly and the soldiers moved to stand behind Blanche. They didn’t touch her, but there was no doubt their purpose was to restrain her, not obey her.
‘No?’ she said in her strange, flat voice. ‘This does not please you? The fire does not please you?’
Vidal walked over to Piet. A soldier pressed his dagger down on his neck, keeping Piet on his knees.
‘I will not waste any more time on you, Reydon. You’ve led me a dance, preyed on my former goodwill. Because of you, many people have lost their lives. This is on your conscience.’
Piet’s face tightened in anger. ‘Damn you to hell.’
‘Do you not remember your scripture, Reydon? Sins of omission and sins of commission, the law of intended and unintended consequences. Because of your obduracy, Crompton and the poor fool you paid to copy the Shroud – they suffered much because of you. McCone too, though he was the architect of his own misfortune. Selling secrets to both sides, so foolish.’
Vidal hesitated, as if waiting for Piet to speak, then stepped back, rubbing the smoke from his eyes.
‘You want the Shroud, Vidal. Is that it?’
‘You have one chance to tell me the truth. If you do not, I shall kill the girl first, then the boy, and then Mademoiselle Joubert. If you are honest, I will spare them the sword.’
‘He’s lying,’ Aimeric shouted. ‘He intends to kill us all.’
‘Tell him, Piet,’ Minou said, trying to edge away from the fire. Another spark had leapt from the fire onto some dry bracken. A smoulder of tiny flames was starting to burn along its fingers, creeping now across a fallen branch.
‘Where is the Shroud now? I know you gave it to your – what is she to you? Your Catholic mistress?’
‘You pretend to love God, Valentin,’ Blanche said suddenly. ‘You pretend all this is for His glory, but you have turned away from the Lord. You seek your own advantage only.’
Vidal ignored her. ‘Where is it, Reydon?’
Piet said nothing. Vidal stared, then turned and walked instead to Alis and reached out his hand.
‘No!’ Aimeric shouted. ‘It’s here. In the lining of my cloak.’
‘At last.’ Vidal clicked his fingers. ‘Bonal.’
Bonal untied the cloak roughly from Aimeric’s neck and handed it to his master. Vidal ripped the stitching, reached inside and pulled out the leather document container.
For a moment, he hesitated, as if he might allow himself the time to look upon the Shroud. But then he reconsidered.
‘I shall not defile so sacred an object by unveiling it in such impious company,’ he said.
Blanche let out a scream. ‘You have in your hands a sign of God’s mercy to man, in the gift of His son who died for us, yet you care nothing for it. You are a sinner, Valentin.’
She leapt forward, but the guards held her firm.
‘Take the Lady Blanche back to her chambers,’ Vidal said, his voice cold. ‘She is much afflicted and deserves our pity.’
‘What about us?’ Minou said. ‘You said you would let us go.’
Vidal gave a thin smile. ‘Ah, but I did not. What I said was that I would spare you the sword. Reydon is a heretic. You too, now, I warrant. It’s like poison. Heresy gets into the blood. The others are contaminated by association with you both. Bonal, bind them. Let the fire do its work.’
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
Vidal stood back from the pyre, a kerchief over his mouth and nose, watching Bonal secure the prisoners. His red robes snapped in the wind.
Blanche stood beside him in the custody of the soldiers. Her face was marked with smuts from the fire, her white and silver garments ruined with ash. Her hair had come loose from her cowl and hung down her back. She had an expression of serenity on her face, though her eyes were blank like those of a plaster saint in a church. Only the clenching and unclenching of her fists betrayed her turmoil.
Piet, Bérenger and Aimeric had each been bound to trees at the edge of the woods to the north of the clearing, directly in the path the fire would take as the south-westerly wind continued to fan the flames. They were too far apart to help one another.
Minou was still tethered to the stake closer to the source of the fire. Alis was now tethered to the same stake; they were back to back in a complicated twisting
of rope. There was no hope of untying themselves. For the time being they were safe but, if the wind swung round again, it would be only a matter of minutes before the flames engulfed them, too.
* * *
‘I shall return to the château, Bonal,’ Vidal said. ‘Finish with the girl and the child, dispose of the bodies, then prepare the horses. I shall await you at the keep.’
‘We are leaving Puivert?’
Vidal looked down at the leather container and the cloak draped across his arm. ‘Indeed. I have what I came for.’
‘And to return to Toulouse, Monsignor?’
Vidal smiled. ‘No, we will ride to the Tarn. To Saint-Antonin-Noble-Val, to be exact.’
Bonal met his eye. ‘Very good, Monsignor.’
Vidal took a final look around, as if checking all was to his satisfaction, then, leaving Bonal, he set off with the soldiers escorting Blanche between them. Though she was chatelaine and these were her lands, there was no doubt who was now in command.
‘God will damn you for this, Vidal,’ Piet shouted after him.
Minou saw Vidal pause, then continue along the path without looking back.
The swirling wind was sending the noxious smoke billowing through the glade, turning the air a mottled black. It was impossible to see now.
Piet called out again. ‘Minou?’
‘I’m here,’ she called over the crackling of the pyre.
‘It does my heart good to hear you,’ he said, but she heard the despair in his voice. He could not reach her, nor could she reach him.
She saw Bonal moving around on the periphery of her vision, dragging the bodies of the dead soldiers towards the fire. She heard a hiss, and a crackle as their hair began to burn, then the sickly, sweet smell of burning flesh began to permeate the air.
Quickly, she began to talk to Alis.
‘What stories we will have to tell,’ she said, desperate to distract her sister from the horror unfolding around them.
‘I missed you,’ Alis said, so sweet and simple a statement it brought tears to Minou’s eyes.
‘I missed you too,’ she said. ‘We both did. Even Aimeric.’
‘I knew you would come, whatever Blanche said, but I also didn’t want you to.’
‘I understand.’
‘She told me we were going to Toulouse, which is why I went with her even though Madame Noubel had told me to stay in the house. It is my fault.’
‘It is not your fault,’ Minou said fiercely. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter now.’
‘Are you sure I will not be in trouble?’
‘Quite sure.’
‘All right. When I realised Blanche had lied, I waited for you to come. But weeks went by, so I decided to run away. Then the baby tried to be born and Blanche nearly died. She has been ill ever since. I tried to run away again, but they caught me and brought me back. The priest kept asking me questions.’
‘Did he hurt you?’ Minou said, knowing she had to ask, but dreading the answer.
Alis hesitated, then Minou thought she shook her head.
‘I can’t see you, Alis, you must say it out loud.’
‘Not really. He pinched my cheeks, hard, but I didn’t cry.’
Minou breathed a sigh of relief.
‘I have a lovely surprise for you,’ she said. ‘Papa is here in the château. Madame Noubel is with him. And as soon as we are away from here, we will go and find him. What do you say to that?’
‘Will they come to find us?’ Alis said in a small voice. ‘How will they know we are here?’
‘They will,’ Minou said firmly, though she had no hope of it. ‘Or someone else. The smoke must be visible from miles around. Someone in Puivert will see.’
Minou fell silent as Bonal reappeared to make a final check on their bindings.
‘There,’ he said, jerking at the rope to test it was secure.
‘This is wrong,’ Minou said, making a last attempt to reason with him. ‘You can’t want our souls on your conscience. Please, at least let my sister go. She’s only a child.’
Bonal leant over and whispered in her ear. ‘I won’t have anything on my conscience. I shall confess my sins and the slate will be wiped clean, whereas you – you Huguenot whore – will go to your Maker unshriven. With all your sins upon you.’
He spat on the ground beside her, then straightened up and walked away towards the path. A gust of wind lifted another cloud of smoke into the glade, obscuring her vision.
Then Minou heard Bonal cry out. Within the haze, she saw he was swaying on his feet, then he seemed to collapse sideways onto his knees. Another pocket of clear air and Minou saw Bonal was lying on the ground, with a knife sticking out of his throat.
‘What’s happening now?’ Alis whispered.
‘I don’t know,’ Minou replied. ‘Keep quiet.’
‘Is it Papa coming?’
‘I don’t know,’ Minou whispered again, struggling to see.
She could hear footsteps coming closer and closer on the dry and trodden leaves, then a figure lumbered into view.
‘Aunt!’ she cried.
Madame Boussay was perspiring and breathing heavily. Panting. To Minou’s astonishment, she leant over Bonal, pulled out the knife and wiped the blade clean on the grass.
Minou didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Her aunt seemed to be utterly unafraid, not at all perturbed by the fact that she had just killed a man.
‘Aunt, dear Aunt,’ Minou said. ‘Can you cut me loose?’
‘I’ll do my best, dear,’ Madame Boussay said.
‘I didn’t know you could . . . use a knife.’
‘Oh, I cannot. I am so clumsy, my husband always . . .’ She faltered. ‘It is a trick your brother taught me. Useful, so it’s turned out. He said your Huguenot suitor taught it to him.’ Then, before Minou could answer, she turned. ‘And you must be little Alis, is that right?’
Bewildered, Alis could only nod.
‘I am Madame Boussay. I am your aunt, from Toulouse,’ she said, cutting at the rope to free Minou, then doing the same for Alis. ‘That’s better. Now, where’s that nephew of mine? Aimeric?’
At first there was no answer. Minou turned cold. The fire could not yet have reached them, but what about the smoke?
‘Aimeric?’ Madame Boussay called again. ‘Answer, please.’
This time, her brother’s voice came calling back across the glade.
‘We’re here, Aunt. Though if you might hurry . . .’
Minou darted round the outskirts of the glade, sheltering from the fire as best she could.
She cut Piet free and, for the lightest of moments, they let their lips touch. Then, together, they cut Bérenger and Aimeric loose, before rejoining Madame Boussay and Alis, and retrieving their weapons.
Exhausted, still in shock, the little group forced themselves to walk back up the slopes towards the castle compound.
‘Bérenger,’ Piet said, when they reached the edge of the dense undergrowth. ‘Go to the village and raise the alarm. If the wind doesn’t abate, the woodlands all the way down to Chalabre are at risk.’
‘We have to find a way into the Tour Bossue,’ Minou said in a low voice. ‘My father and Madame Noubel are being held there.’
‘Do you think they are still there, Niece?’
‘I don’t know. Father says no one knows who he is, but that might change now since Vidal has the Shroud. As for Blanche, well –’
‘Her wits have gone, Aunt,’ Alis explained. ‘The baby tried to come early and it made her mad.’
‘Our only hope is that since she, too, has what she wanted, she will be calmer.’
‘What was it that the Lady Blanche wanted, Niece?’
‘A Will,’ Minou replied. ‘It was hidden inside the bible my mother sent to you, Aunt. I took it from your hiding place in the Eglise Saint-Taur. Forgive me, I meant to tell you. I thought it might be destroyed when the fighting started.’
‘Are you saying there is a Will hidden within my bib
le?’
Minou frowned. ‘When you first received it from my mother, did you not examine it, Aunt?’
‘Well, no. I did open the bible, but when I saw it was in French – and knew how displeased my husband would be – I immediately closed it and put it back inside the bag. Then, as you know, I hid it. Is it a Will made by Florence?’
‘I –’ Minou began, then decided this could wait. ‘It’s a long story, Aunt. Sufficient to say that Blanche believed it would deprive her of her inheritance. I sewed it into the hem of my cloak to keep safe, together with something precious Piet had asked me to keep safe for him. That’s why, when we were stopped at the toll house on the covered bridge, I gave my cloak to Aimeric.’
‘Which he never let out of his sight. He is an obedient boy, after his own manner.’
‘For all that,’ Minou sighed, ‘Vidal now has it and there’s nothing to be done about it.’
Madame Boussay cleared her throat. ‘Well, as a matter of fact, he does not. I hope you will not take offence at this, Minou, but the stitching on your cloak was really very poor. I took it upon myself to repair it, when you were asleep, Aimeric. I used to be good with a needle when I was young, though Monsieur Boussay did not want his wife . . .’ She stopped. ‘Well, no matter. The point is, I found the container and the bible. I didn’t think it was my place to look inside the leather holder, so I put that back. But I did recognise my own bible, and it was such a pleasure to see it again that I own I kept it.’
Minou and Aimeric exchanged glances. ‘Are you saying you have the Will, Aunt?’ she said.
Madame Boussay fussed at her hair. ‘Well, I don’t know about the Will, but the bible? Certainly I do. Here.’ She reached into her ugly velvet purse, tied at her waist. ‘It was the only gift I had from my dear sister. I couldn’t bear the thought of being parted from it again.’
Minou opened the bible and found the Will, just as she had left it in the pages of the book. Aimeric bent over and kissed Madame Boussay.
‘Aunt, you are a wonder.’
‘She has a fever, Monsignor,’ the nurse said.
‘I am aware of that.’
Vidal peered down at Blanche lying motionless beneath the sheets, her hands still on the white linen, her face calm and her eyes closed, like a marble effigy on a tomb. Yet, though she did not move at all, he was certain she was not asleep.
